


Moments We Can't Have

by lucycamui



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Based on The Boyfriend Experience, Insert scene, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: Written for chapter eleven of cryingoverspilledvodka's The Boyfriend Experience, in which Yuuri is an escort who finds himself blurring the line of his client relationship with Victor.





	Moments We Can't Have

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Boyfriend Experience](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285461) by [cryingoverspilledvodka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingoverspilledvodka/pseuds/cryingoverspilledvodka). 



> Canon lost scene for chapter eleven, between the dinner and the morning of the short program.

The water was too hot, biting his skin pink. With a hiss, Yuuri sucked a breath in through his teeth and pushed through the sear. Nerve endings prickling in reaction to the heat, Yuuri descended into the milky-white depth of the bathtub. Whatever salts Victor had added to it tickled with strange familiarity at his nose. 

The fragrance and heat soaked like comfort through him, and Yuuri dropped beneath the surface. Water could always block all the noise and worry of the world for all too brief a moment. Yuuri drowned in the silence, floating with his hair dancing in the water despite his lack of movement. His heels bumped porcelain, tingling as his body adjusted to the temperature, until his lungs began to burn. 

Breaking the surface, Yuuri released the breath that he felt he had been holding for far longer, since getting off the plane and all through intense discomfort of the dinner. He swept his hair back, clearing droplets from his face, and slumped against the hard backing of the tub. 

The walls of the hotel bathroom were too white, a blaring reminder that this was not normal. It was not real, foreign in more than just location. Yuuri sank back further down into the water until it lapped at the curve of his lower lip. Even when he shut his eyes, the white seemed to penetrate through. 

Yuuri timed his breathing, filling his lungs with the heat and humidity until the glare faded and he could let himself be taken in. The sting of the temperature soothed his nerves, his muscles, easing his mind. He wanted to clear it and settled into nothingness just for a few minutes. Instead, his thoughts drifted to Victor.

Hard lines and sharp curves, firm hands capable of shockingly soft touches. The ghost of Victor’s lips still haunted the nape of his neck, the indents along his hips, insides of his thighs. Smiles and smirks, laughter mixed with dirty lines whispered hot against his ear. Victor burned through Yuuri like coal, left embers smoldering long after they were supposed to be extinguished. 

More often than not, Yuuri found himself lost in too few memories and an increasing amount of imagined ideals. Pulled by gravity to a star that would be sure to consume him and Yuuri was dangerously close to plunging right in. 

“Don’t fall asleep in there.”

Humming to show he was fine, Yuuri lifted his lashes and his gaze settled on Victor. A smile tugged across his lips before he could help it. Seeing Victor dressed down was a welcome sight, even if the tshirt and sweats he wore were surely designer. They had seen each other bared for than enough times now for Yuuri to have memorized each dip in Victor’s body, yet this felt oddly more exposed than ever. “I’m all right.”

“Not too hot for you?” Victor approached and Yuuri sat up straighter, following how Victor’s eyes eagerly sought out the droplets which rolled down the expanse of his throat, catching on his collarbone. 

“It’s fine. Reminds me of— it’s perfect,” Yuuri threw his best smile, only to have it stolen by Victor kneeling down at the edge of the bathtub and reaching forward to twirl at few strands of Yuuri’s wet hair between his fingers. Yuuri did his best to tease when he noticed the contemplative expression on the Russian’s face, “What’s on your mind, Mr. Nikiforov?”

“Let me wash it for you.”

Stiffening for a second, Yuuri then nodded. He could hardly turn down such a simple request, and it being Victor… he would never want to anyway. So he turned into the width of the bathtub, offering his back to the other. The moment Victor’s fingertips stroked up through his hair, Yuuri melted. 

Victor was as gentle as he had been the morning Yuuri woke up with them together in the bed of his apartment, all delicacy that Yuuri could not begin to deserve. He massaged away the tension at base of Yuuri’s skull, working shampoo through every strand. His nails scratched like bliss along Yuuri’s scalp and Yuuri didn’t miss the fraction of a second in which Victor leaned in closer, brushing a kiss over one of his shoulders. 

Fingers trailed down his neck and Yuuri reached up, grasping onto the hand before it could leave him. Glancing back, he caught Victor’s slightly surprised blue eyes and smiled. “It’s still warm, will you join me?” He did not have to ask twice.

Victor’s clothes littered the bathroom floor and Yuuri shifted forward to make room. He did not allow himself to worry about the intimacy of it, Victor’s arm looping around his waist, tugging him back. Victor rinsed the shampoo from his hair and Yuuri leaned against the Russian’s chest, drinking in each kiss that graced his skin, each stroke of Victor’s fingers along the flat of his stomach. 

There was nothing heated in the contact and yet Yuuri felt the draw of need pooling his abdomen, ignoring it in favor of simply resting against Victor. Head tilted back against Victor’s shoulder, he granted himself the chance to savor the moment, smiling when he felt lips press against his hairline. “Can I ask you a question?” Yuuri murmured.

“Of course.”

“What did you add to the bath?” Yuuri still could not place the scent. “It’s… it’s familiar.”

“You mentioned being from southern Japan…” Victor spoke with caution lacing his words, as if he were aware it may be something he needed to be careful admitting. It was a secret that Yuuri let slip, and Victor sounded unsure if it was perhaps something he may not wanted to be reminded of. “I knew that area is quite famous for hot springs so I had some minerals imported. I was curious, and then thought you might like it. Is it okay? I don’t really know a lot about that kind of thing.”

In place of a response, Yuuri turned into Victor, sliding hands up his well-sculpted chest. Fingers tangling into damp silver locks, Yuuri permitted Victor an unguarded smile. “Thank you.”

The kiss was too soft, all the heat that should have filled it had dissolved like the onsen minerals into water. Victor’s hands splayed across Yuuri’s back and not any lower, lips gentle, imitating affectionate as they moved against Yuuri’s. A kiss without teeth biting out mewls or tongues delving fierce and wet, a kiss Yuuri could not remember sharing with anyone else. But that was fine, because he only wanted to gift it to Victor. No rush nor oxygen stolen from his lungs through their usual near desperation, yet Yuuri still felt breathless when Victor finally smiled into it.

“What?” Yuuri muttered against Victor’s lips, not wanting to force himself to pull back just yet.

“You’re welcome.”

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri made to draw back but Victor’s arms just wound tighter around his waist, pulling them flush together. Yuuri didn’t fight it, resting against the Russian, eyes sliding shut as his head settled on Victor’s shoulder. The flight and the day wore at him, creeping exhaustion through him, and Victor seemed to notice. 

“Come on, I’m sure you’re tired.”

Protests bloomed on Yuuri’s tongue, about how it had been Victor that had spent all day on the ice and that Yuuri hardly had an excuse. They all fell away with a surprised gasp when Victor adjusted his hold on Yuuri and stood, lifting him out of the bathtub and dripping wet onto the bathroom floor. Again, Victor silenced him effortlessly by wrapping Yuuri in a towel which should have been too plush to belong to a hotel, drying him before Yuuri even had a chance to insist he could do it himself. 

Victor fluffed the towel through Yuuri’s hair and over his skin, catching every clinging droplet. Yuuri let him. He was light-headed from the sudden change position, from being enveloped in the heat for a little too long, from the eleven hour flight without a wink due to nerves, and from being toweled dry like he was something precious. 

Yuuri slumped against Victor, who caught him and whispered something that might have been Russian into his hair. He barely noticed Victor half leading and half carrying him to the hotel bed, replacing the towel with a robe which was also too soft. But that hardly mattered, because the last thing that Yuuri registered was Victor’s lips on his temple before his head hit the pillow, dropping hard into unremembered dreams.

~~~~~~~~

When Yuuri woke in the morning, he saw the indent in the pillow beside his own. Sliding his hand across bedsheets, warmth lingered on the slept-in other side of the bed. The hotel sheets were as bright white as the walls in the bathroom, but when Yuuri closed his eyes again, it didn’t glare through.

The television was on, albeit almost muted, a newscaster delivering a report in unnaturally hushed Russian, so low that Yuuri could hear the bubbling of the fresh coffee over it. The sheets and blanket pooled at Yuuri’s waist as he pushed himself off the mattress to sit. He turned just in time to see Victor come through the hotel door, carrying a couple bags, one plastic slung off his elbow, one paper cradled in his elbow. In his hands he carried two Starbucks cups, despite the in-room coffee maker happily brewing away in the corner. 

“Oh, Yuuri, good morning.”

That brilliant smile launched itself at Yuuri, a direct assault on all logic and reasoning. 

“I-… I wasn’t sure what you normally ate for breakfast, so I just grabbed a few different things.” 

Even across the too-large suite, Yuuri could see a faint blush painting the bridge of Victor’s nose. 

“Or we can order room service, the cooks here are quite good. You’d love the blini.”

Victor Nikiforov stood before the foot of the bed in which Yuuri sat, nude as the robe he had fallen asleep in had been gently pushed off by Victor’s hands in the middle of the night, when their midnight conversation had dissolved into burning lips and the need to feel skin on skin.

And now there was Victor, shrugging off a scarf and coat dusted with snow, casually offering him breakfast as if it didn’t mean the world.

“What do you want, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s heart screamed.

Everything.


End file.
